


Sing Sweet Nightingale

by redluna



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redluna/pseuds/redluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian's always been a jumble of contradictions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Sweet Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

> Originally done on tumblr for a prompt left by my friend Robyn: Sebastian doesn't actually like singing.

Sometimes Sebastian thought he might have actually liked singing. It wasn’t like he didn’t like music, after all. It was just that it was awfully hard to like something that had been crammed down his throat his whole life.

Let’s backtrack a little.

The Smythe family might be old money ( _painfully_ so) but that didn’t mean they were all stuffed up lawyer types. Sebastian’s father had made sure of that, in fact, when he choose the prima ballerina from the Paris opera house as his wife. She was from a distinguished French family so all it worked out and honestly Sebastian’s parents were infatuated enough that they wouldn’t really care if it didn’t.

Still, it was hard for Marion Smythe to make the transition from dancer to housewife. Which was where her children came in.

It all started when their mother found his older sister, Lily, playing with her old ballet shoes. In no time at all the girl had a pair of her own and was twirling around in perfect little pirouettes under their mother’s strict regime. And that had been when she was only four.

Sebastian can remember the strict diet regime their mother kept Lily under and how he had snuck her a whole chocolate cake on the night of her sixteenth birthday. The two of them had had to eat it all by themselves, waking up with sick stomachs the next morning that had been totally worth it. He’s pretty sure their father knew what happened but he’s never said a thing.

Lily finally got the chance to break free once she went to college, discovering that she still liked the stage—she just wanted to act on it instead.

Their mother had been devastated for a time, but then learned to content herself with at least having Sebastian. 

There were times that Sebastian honestly hated his toddler self for singing along to the French songs on one of his mother’s cassettes. (He also hates that he still knows all the songs by heart and that it’s still his favorite.)

His mother had him parroting his talent to everyone who would stand still long enough, cooing over how perfect his pitch was. Then it was singing classes from age five (with some dancing thrown in for good measure).

Being the captain of the Warblers wasn’t as bad as being thrust onto the stage of the opera house back in Paris. Any doubts that his mother saw the experience differently are wiped away when she gushed about the whole experience over the dinner table to Kurt. And Sebastian wanted to knock his head off the table because Kurt’s eyes are sparkling in the way they did when Sebastian told him that, yes, the scarf he got him was really from Hermes.

He won’t stop _gushing_ about either, even once they’re in Sebastian’s room.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I mean, I might be more of a Broadway guy, but an opera house? In _Paris_? At the very least you should have been lording it over me for ages now. You even got to sing in a live—”

“I don’t care,” Sebastian cut in sharply because the threads to his self-control are fraying. ”I don’t care about any of it, alright?”

Kurt went quiet for a few seconds, which was possibly even worse than his quiet, “Bastian?”

Sebastian ran a hand over his face, refusing to look at Kurt. “I don’t like it, okay? I’ve never liked it. Not like you or my mom do, at least. It was all just a bit of fun.”

Kurt—very predictably—squawked indignantly. “Just a bit of… Oh, that is the worse joke ever, Sebastian. Because I saw how determined you were to beat us at Regionals, you know.”

“Because Mom probably would have sued the judges otherwise,” Sebastian said. (No, he really isn’t exaggerating.) 

“Your mom?” Kurt prompted. It seemed like he was finally catching onto the right thread at last.

“Yeah, my mom. All this—” Sebastian waved his hands in the air for emphasis. “—it’s all her.”

“Then why don’t you just stop it?” Kurt asked. “Why go along with it?”

Sebastian scoffed at his floor with the toe of his shoe and he really wouldn’t be doing that if he wasn’t upset because the last thing he wants is scuff marks. “Well she’s my mom, right? Aren’t I suppose to want to make her happy?”

 _And you,_ is silently added because Sebastian is pretty sure Kurt wouldn’t have even given him the time of day if he hadn’t been a singer. Hell, it had been hard enough to convince Kurt to push all that aggression into bed instead of into fighting.

Which was why it came as a surprise when Kurt said, “So what is your thing then?”

Sebastian finally looked at Kurt now, blinking in confusion. “What?” he said.

Kurt rolled his shoulders up in a shrug that looked way too graceful. “What’s your thing?” he said. “The thing that _you_ like to do.”

Sebastian hesitated for just a moment before moving over to his desk, undoing the drawer that’s always locked. He brought the stack of papers over to Kurt, handing them over once he’s sat down on the bed next to Kurt. He can’t stop fidgeting while Kurt flips through each page, eyes growing steadily wider.

“Sebastian, is this…?”

“Um, yeah, it is.” And, Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to his tongue? He’s supposed to be smoother than this. “I don’t get to do it much, but when I get an idea I just…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “It’s stupid, I know, but… _Ow_!”

He rubbed at the spot on his arm that Kurt had hit while his boyfriend looked at him sharply. “Sebastian Smythe this is not stupid.” He glanced down at the pages, his expression far too fond. “It’s incredible.”

Sebastian’s move suddenly felt very dry. “Really?” He can’t help wanting to make sure. It’s like a reflex.

Kurt’s smile is almost blinding. “Yes, really, you moron.” Because neither of them can ever get through anything without tagging on something slightly insulting along the way. And, honestly, that had been a light one. (You should hear the things Sebastian has gotten Kurt to call him in bed.)

“Oh, thank God.” The words left Sebastian in a rush, although it only took a heartbeat for his grin to turn sly. “Now do you want to see the sex scenes I wrote? I swear you were only the inspiration for some of them.”

Kurt started to flip widely through the papers again. “I better be the inspiration for all of them, Mr. Man Slut.”

Maybe someday Sebastian will find the courage to reveal that Kurt had been his muse even before they were together. But for now he’s content to just watch with a smile that felt like it would break his face in two.


End file.
